


put you in her pocket

by cosmogyral



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, F/M, Homestuck Shipping Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmogyral/pseuds/cosmogyral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk Strider, private dickbag, and Roxy Lalonde, public Catwoman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	put you in her pocket

**Author's Note:**

> HSO BR4 (Mixtape) fic, for [this fabulous mix](http://hs-olympics.dreamwidth.org/19337.html?thread=3079305#cmt3079305) by psonu.

She slides onto the stool next to you and orders a whiskey sour--make it two. "And two umbrellas," she adds, turning to you. "It doesn't count as a drink without an umbrella, you know? It makes you feel like you're just indulging."

You lift an eyebrow, but one of the downsides of the sunglasses is that they kill the effect. "Have we met?"

"Do we have to?" she says. She slaps you companionably on the shoulder. "I'm a big fan of strangers. I thought you might want a drink."

The bartender pushes it your way, and you lift the drink off the hotel-branded coaster. She grimaces, and flips it, Boxcars' face soaking up the beer on the counter. "I do want a drink," you say, setting it back down. "But my brother always told me not to take 'em from femme fatales."

"You think I'm fatale?" She beams at him, putting a hand over his glass. "That's so sweet! I'm barely even, like, a _vamp_."

"You're barely even sixteen."

"Oh, you can talk," she sniffs, and you flush red. You pick up your glass again to cover it and hear the fizz of whatever she put in it. "How'd you get your ID, anyway? The cops don't notice you're outgrowing your pants?"

"The cops don't notice you haven't developed?"

She crosses her arms over her chest, and you roll your eyes. "Okay," you say. "What's the angle? Why'd you dope me?"

"I didn't dope you, you big paranoid," she says. She's a pretty mediocre liar. "Come on, I'll try some."

"Oh, no, sister, I know that one. Are you fingering me for something? Did you--" You pat your jacket, and pull out a set of keys you didn't have two minutes ago, and the girl's eyes widen and she slips off the stool, but you're faster than that--you've got a hold on her wrist already.

She isn't grinning anymore. "Let me go."

"Not a chance," you say. "These are to the safe in the penthouse, aren't they?"

"How the _hell_ do you know that?" she says.

Because you were up there ten minutes ago planting a bomb and the jewels were all missing. "I'm psychic. We need to get out of here."

"I had a getaway," she says. "But it's vamps only."

"It's vamps and spooks tonight," you say, sliding your badge out of your jacket. "Ever been to Derse?"

Her eyes go huge and happy, and she twists her hand and grabs your wrist in turn to yank you off the barstool towards the door. "Born and raised! I knew you looked like my kinda guy. You from the capital? I'm from Oceanside. Kinda rundown these days but you can't beat the neighbors--" She pauses in the hotel lounge, and adds, "You're going to have to climb. You can climb, right?"

You stare at her. Belatedly you realize this is also invisible. " _That convinced you?_ "

"Not even close, dumbass," she says. "But it got you out in the open." And with that she screams for help at the top of her lungs.

Two hours later, after a car chase, a rooftop climb, a swim in the toxic lake, and your first shower, you notice the documents are gone.

You might've lost them in the lake.

You might need to go and find yourself a jewel thief.


End file.
